


LIGHT

by iceman



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Awkwardness, Incest, M/M, Oblivious, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-02
Updated: 2013-01-02
Packaged: 2017-11-23 10:05:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/620921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iceman/pseuds/iceman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s been fifty long years but it still felt the same – it sent his heart racing, made his palms sweat, quickened his breath and there was a tug of desperation yanking him on either side. Fifty years was a long time, but not long enough to get over it and forget. It stuck with him, ready to strike when he was least expecting, always there, waiting to send him into a painful relapse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	LIGHT

**Author's Note:**

> First time writing these characters, felt a little awkward writing them but then again might just be because of the awkwardness in the story. I apologize in hindsight.

            It’s been fifty long years but it still felt the same – it sent his heart racing, made his palms sweat, quickened his breath and there was a tug of desperation yanking him on either side. Fifty years was a long time, but not long enough to get over it and forget. It stuck with him, ready to strike when he was least expecting, always there, waiting to send him into a painful relapse.

            Fili cleared his throat but the lump doesn’t go away, he braced himself, waiting for the impact he knew would come, his breath shook in an exhale. If one would have asked him fifty years ago if it was possible to feel such happiness and pain at the same time, he would have laughed.

            He wasn’t laughing now.

            ‘Uncle says we leave at dawn,’ said the cause of his emotions, and Fili is left to wonder how his brother could still be such a wonder to him. Fili had never been gifted at using the bow that his little brother held so dear, perhaps that was the issue, that Fili had always missed the mark.

             They had a mere five years between them, but the elder took it unto himself that he must think and consider for both of their fates. So he tried to follow his younger brother everywhere he went, made sure that he was there to protect the other if anything went wrong. It kept him busy, and their time together passed as such.

But he figured, all he had ever gotten out of that was the knowledge that Kili liked hunting. Kili would take any chance to show off the skill that he possessed in using the bow, hiding in the bush or behind the trees, the way he ducked for cover and sneaked up toward his prey unnoticed. Fili admired him for that.

            Perhaps, above all, was the moment when Kili returned with their meal in hand, the smile on his face, so full of confidence and so pure – one look and Fili gets lost in it.

            He realized that his brother had stopped talking, and mentally sighs because he hadn’t been paying attention. He swallowed, nodded, ‘You think they will come?’ Their uncle Thorin had sent word out to his kin about the quest to retake Erebor and they were to travel to the Shire at first light while Thorin took a short detour.

            Kili gave him a smile, and he had to look away because it glowed too bright, showed too much. ‘Aye, they will come and we will succeed in taking Erebor back.’ And Kili had said it with so much conviction that Fili could only agree in return.

            ‘You should get some rest,’ said Kili, and the elder of the two started wondering when they had switched roles and Kili started taking care of him instead. _How unbecoming_ , he thought, and hid his hands behind his back to hide a shiver.

            His heart going as fast as a thundering steed, Fili let out a trembling breath as his deep rooted emotions took its toll. When he gathered up enough strength to reply, ‘aye, you too,’ his brother had already gone. He silently berated himself for being such a poor elder brother.

            He didn’t manage to get any rest. Kili was sound asleep in the bed beside his, separated by a small wooden bedside table in between. Just a little while longer and he would wake his brother, just a bit longer. The soft snores of his little brother would have lured him to sleep as well, but that was in the past. These days, he was too occupied with thinking, feeling, experiencing.

            And slowly but surely, wrecking himself just a tad bit more everyday.

            The morning light shone through the tiny window, reflecting off Kili’s skin and it took his breath away. Felt so much worse than running from Orcs and so much better at the same time. He choked, laughed, a small grunt inside his throat and he doesn’t realize how hard he had been gripping onto the sheets.

            It should have bothered him that he would be departing on the journey without much sleep, should have bothered him that he was prolonging their leave to let Kili rest longer. It doesn’t. Fili doesn’t know why, but he doesn’t care because he’s trying to commit this serene picture of Kili bathed in morning sunlight to his memory.

            It would take them a week to get to the Shire, the house of the Burglar; according to Mithrandir’s instructions. Just one more week of this peace and their quest would begin. Suddenly, fifty years doesn’t seem like a long time at all.

+++++

            The first night they had set up camp in the small shade of a rock protruding out of its landscape. Kili had offered to take first watch because no matter how well Fili tried to hide his weariness, his brother knew. That hit him like an arrow to the chest, made him numb in all the wrong places.

            Or maybe, that was just because of the long day of riding and not enough rest.

            Moonlight and sunlight weren’t that far off, Fili decided, because he could lose himself while taking in his brother’s figure either way. Fifty years of this, and he was staring at how the lines on his brother’s face moved when Kili stared up at the skies and smiled, chestnut eyes reflecting the light of a thousand stars. The sharp cheekbones all the way down to the faint dimple one could see if he bothered to look at the right moment.

            ‘You should have woke me,’ he said, or tried to, his voice sounded choked up, stiff. Too much tension. Like they had spent a whole night fighting off Orcs and didn’t have the time after to stretch and relax. Fili was just glad it didn’t waver.

            ‘You gave me more rest before we left, it’s only right I do the same for you.’ Kili spared him a sideway glance, quirked up the corner of his lips.

            Fili could only stare with his mouth open, wondered if this was a result of his persistent heart burn, or the way his words get eaten up in his own throat. How his havoc-wrecking little brother had grown to be such a wise perceiving dwarf, Fili didn’t know.

            It had only seemed like days ago that Kili would run off into the wilderness with his bow and arrow in the middle of the night, in a trail of his laughter, not a care in the world. Fili had to track him down and bring him home to the disapproving but slightly amused look on Thorin’s face.

            Perhaps that’s what caused the heart burn, the constant running, chasing his brother down, just trying to catch up.

            They were together since young, but Kili had grown, matured. Fili still felt like that dwarfling lost in the mysterious woods, standing straight and taunt as a bowstring, waiting to pick up the sound of his brother’s laughter, trailing in his brother’s footsteps.

            ‘Did you send word to mother?’

            Fili stayed silent for a long time, sitting cross-legged on the thin bedding. They had not seen their mother for thirty long years, spending the time traveling and earning whatever they could with their uncle Thorin instead. Mother had said it would be a great experience for them, that they could hone their skills at crafting and swordsmanship at the same time.

            ‘Uncle did, before we left Bree,’ Fili said, coughed, sputtered. The sound reverberated in his chest, rough and sore, went straight to his head, made him feel dizzy and light headed, made him feel like naught but a dwarfling that had seen only ten summers.

            Kili would never admit it, wanting to prove that he was more than capable of surviving in the wilderness alone – he would never admit just how much he missed their mother. They were similar, not just in blood but in spirit as well. Weird as it may be for a dwarf, they liked to spend time in the open air as much as they do in the stony walls of mountains.

            She would take him out on the grass fields just South of Ered Luin, taught him how to ride a pony, how to climb trees to fetch apples. Fili would wait till they left before he trailed behind, mother had still found out anyway, but she didn’t mention it.

            Kili frowned, ‘Perhaps we should…’

            He never finished his sentence, but he didn’t need to. ‘Aye,’ Fili said, ‘We’ll write to her when we retake Erebor, invite her for a feast.’ The younger dwarf smiled at that, and Fili swore that there was a sparkle in his brother’s eyes but it was merely a reflection of the moonlight.

+++++

            Kili came back with three rabbits in his grasp, sweat staining the back of his neck, hair wild and out of place. He made his way to the small fire that Fili had started, plopped down at the side and started de-skinning their meal with a filleting knife.

            Fili watched the motion for a bit, then got to his brother’s side and started running his fingers through messy hair. The small piece of metal that had gone askew came off with a faint click, and he tucked the hair back neatly, away from obscuring his brother’s face, and clipped the metal piece back into place.

            Fifty years since he had realized what he harbored in his heart was more than just brotherly love, he sat behind Kili tying up wavy black hair like they were back in Ered Luin some seventy years ago.

            ‘Rabbits ran too fast for you?’ he grinned, even though Kili can’t see it.

            There’s a loud exhale, sounded less like laughter and more like a cough, ‘nothing runs too fast for me.’ And Fili would know. Because he spent most of his life trying to match his brother’s pace and always failing to catch up.

            Rabbit thighs were the best part, full of tender meat, and that's why he gave those to his brother who took them with a grin that blinded him like a ray of sunlight – some kind of blindside, made Fili feel like a goblin accidentally running into exposed daylight.

            Fili shifted his gaze down and did not dare to take his eyes off the crackling fire. The cooked meat burnt his tongue when he tried to swallow, but Kili doesn't need to know that.

            He slept in one position and woke up in another. The sound of shuffling feet stirred his mind, he would have jumped up in self-defense if it weren't for a blanket of warmth engulfing him. The breeze had been colder than usual, but that wasn't the reason why he was clenching his jaw.

            The blanket smelled of Kili, the lost heat of the long extinguished flame rushed onto him, hit him like a wave. Mother had used to do this for them - pull blankets over their sleeping forms when they had kicked it off sometime in the night. He let a shiver run through him at that memory even though he was now warm.

            _Kili._

            'Shh, rest,' Kili said, and Fili had not even noticed he had called his brother's name out loud.

            He felt a warm body pressed up to his, Kili lying back and leaning on his chest. His breath goes out like the flame. He wondered if Fili could feel how insanely rapid his heart was beating. 'Kili,' he breathed, this time, consciously with unsteady breaths, shaking hands, blind spot about a mile wide. Lost in the woods.

            'It's cold,' Kili replied like that was all that the reason he needed. Fili felt like he was drowning and he couldn't swim. dwarves had always preferred the security of land, the warmth of the depths of the mountain. The water was freezing, the wind was howling. Kili felt like his killer and his lifeline at the same time.

            So warm yet so cold.

            They fell asleep like that, with Fili's arms wrapped protectively around his little brother, afraid to let go. And if Kili had noticed how fast his brother's heart thundered, he never said a thing.

+++++

            Bag End wasn’t what Fili was expecting. Truthfully, he didn’t know what it was exactly that he had been expecting, but it was definitely not this. Cozy house, warm fireplace, mugs of ale and the smooth spring breeze even though it’s summer everywhere else.

            It felt like home, _a_ home, never his home, or their home.

            ‘Here we are at last,’ said Balin, who had found himself a nice relaxing corner on a large armchair. ‘Better get a good night’s rest laddie. Tomorrow’s a new beginning.’

            Fili nodded in acknowledgement, because new beginnings weren’t exactly his thing. He wanted to prove himself like everyone else, wanted to take back Erebor and claim it as his home, but there was also a part of him that didn’t. For he knew the risks, knew what’s at stake.

             ‘He’ll be fine,’ Balin offered him a smile, gentle, knowing, ‘you’ll see.’

            And Fili turned his attention to the person they were both thinking about, his young brother, curled up on the bedding, close to the fireplace. The dancing flames pick out the angles of Kili’s face, from the high cheekbones to the almost-there dimples, the tiniest upward turn of lips.

            ‘I don’t want to lose him,’ he said, his voice surprising himself more than anything. _I don’t want to lose this…whatever this is._

            ‘You won’t.’ It wasn’t assuring, but it was something, and he kept it close.

+++++

            With his back leaned against a tree trunk, posture slanted slightly, arms folded in front of his chest, Kili almost looked relax. Almost. There was a sort of hidden tension, twisting, pulling – something like that, and that had to mean something.

            Then again, Fili might have just been projecting.

             Kili shifted his eyes from the ponies to his brother, eyebrows cocked upwards in a silent question. Thorin had sent them to watch over the ponies, and Fili would have protested if not for the chance to spend some time alone with his sibling. He wasn’t up for this kind of thing; he wasn’t good at looking after things.

            It reminded him too much of that time back in Ered Luin, when their mother had some business to take care of and left little Kili to him. His brother with hair so different from his, eyes so bright and face full of wonder was naught but seven summers old. In a split second when he turned his back, Kili had run off in a mischievous attempt at hide-and-seek. He panicked, but the little rascal showed up moments after, grin on his face like he had found a seam full of gold.

            ‘Don’t do that again,’ he had reprimanded. ‘You scared me.’

            And grin on his brother’s face fell immediately. Little Kili ran up to him and hugged him, kissed him on the cheek and said, ‘ _I’m sowwie, I’ll ne’er leave Fili again_.’

            ‘I think we’re missing a pony,’ Kili’s voice – same but different – snapped him out of his daze. Fili looked up only to see that his brother had gone ahead without him to get a head count of the horses. Little Kili was no longer little, and he would leave one day.

            Kili had done his fair share of sparring, but never any kind of real combat where one mistake could result in death. Thorin never did let them wander far, and when their uncle went on a hunting party with the human townsfolk, he had always brought Fili along. 

            ‘Next summer,’ he would say, ‘you’re too young. You need to practice more with your blade.’ Uncle never did see how good Kili was with the bow and arrow. No one knew that but Fili, who had always followed his younger brother into the woods.

            Arrows never worked too well on trolls.

            The metal click of his blade when he’d retrieved it and sheathed it back into place was like a sort of reassurance that they were still here, that his brother was still with him. What they would have become if Mithrandir hadn’t came back, he dared not think.

             There was sweat on his temples, a dull ache from where his hands were bound. He wondered if Kili felt the same, and then he wondered what exactly, did he mean by that. ‘We’re okay,’ Fili said, coughed, choked, for his own ears to hear more than anything else.

            Kili stood where he was, looked up from where he was rubbing the sore muscles on his arm. He didn’t have to say anything, because the look on his face said it all. With eyes bright and face full of wonder, he tells Fili that it’s okay, that they’re okay, and that he’s never going to leave Fili behind.

+++++

            Arrows did, however, work well on orcs.

            Rivendell was a welcome sight after the treacherous fights with trolls and orcs – no matter what bad blood there was between their kind and the elves, Fili couldn’t deny that simple fact. He sighed, a sound that got stuck in his throat somewhere, came out old, tired, disgruntled.

            ‘Fili?’ His brother sounded as exhausted as he felt, but he didn’t answer, chose instead to slide his eyes shut. He could still hear music, coming from somewhere below his assigned bed chamber for the night, an elvish tune, smooth and graceful. It was the last thing he needed right now.

            ‘Brother?’ Kili tried again, more concerned now, but still staying on his side of the room. Of course, they had to share a room; it would not have felt right otherwise.

            In the distance, someone started singing.

            ‘What is it?’ He told himself that he was only answering his brother to cover up that annoying elvish tune, and like everything he’d been telling himself lately, that was a lie too.

            Kili used to lie a lot when he was younger, to get out of all kinds of situations and to put himself in some beneficial ones as well. The mischievous dwarfling that Kili was, Fili had to lie in order to cover up his brother’s tales as well. Perhaps he was used to it, feigning his reactions, letting words that he doesn’t mean slip past his lips.

            His brother had started it first, though. And Kili was better than it than he would ever be. ‘I’m not entirely fond of this bed...’ The unasked question hung in the air, and Fili’s breath caught.

            He didn’t even realize he was patting the side of his bed, mentioning for his brother to sleep beside him until Kili was inches away from him. It was an outright lie, and both of them knew it. The beds were undoubtedly the same and it was the most comfortable thing they had in days. He didn’t call his brother’s bluff though.

            He didn’t want to.

            The bed dipped with his brother’s weight, and Fili had to close his eyes again because this was unreal. They had not slept in the same bed – a proper soft warm bed in a cozy room – since some fifty odd years ago.

            Fifty years doesn’t seem like a long time, but it was long enough.

            Fili felt like he was twenty summers old again, holding his little brother in his arms while he slept in Ered Luin which was now so far away. Kili’s body was warm and relaxed against his. Kili’s hair soft was silk as he threaded his hands through it. _‘Goodnight brother, I love you,’_ he would say. If only the other knew what he had really meant by that.

            ‘Brother,’ Kili said, so close to his ear, naught but a whisper. Racing pulse, unsteady breaths. His hands clenched into fists at his side while Kili wrapped arms around him and held him in a tight embrace. It knocked his world upside down. Blindsided, he missed the mark.

            He did not answer. He did not trust his voice to not waver this time around.

            ‘Fili,’ he didn’t so much as hear his name than felt his brother’s lips mouth it against the shell of his ear. It was awkward, wonderful and terrifying at the same time and he wanted nothing more than to run away. Kili held him close, preventing him from doing just that – like his killer and his lifeline at the same time.

            And Valar, he didn’t know if Kili’s next sentence killed him or saved him, or did everything and nothing at once. ‘Goodnight brother, I love you.’

            A painful relapse, and there was nothing he could do about it. He choked on his tightening throat, coughed, laughed. It sounded desperate, bordering on insane because it should be impossible to feel such happiness and pain at the same damned time.

            That blinding sunlight, that alluring moonlight – Kili was all of these things that jumbled up his days from his nights. Kili was that dwarfling that wandered off in the woods alone for a hunt, and Kili was that dwarfling that hugged him close and said that he’d never leave. Kili enjoyed to bask in the daylight in grass planes, and Kili enjoyed to cuddle up with him at night in the mountains. Kili was kind and mischievous and adorable. Kili was his brother, and Kili was his life.

**END**


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